


We Might be Rushing This

by Ecris



Series: Alone Together [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Finally, M/M, Sleepy Sex, Smut, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 10:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6514222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ecris/pseuds/Ecris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sharing a berth platonically really doesn't work out if they've been pining for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Might be Rushing This

The moment Ratchet blinked out of recharge, he knew he wasn't alone. It wasn't too hard to guess who it was either. Even if he hadn't been stuck with the mech on probably the dingiest shuttle in the universe, he would have recognized Drift by his field, and the curve of his waist. Not to mention the elegant shape of Drift's legs, which Ratchet could definitely feel, as one was hooked over his. It was enough to stall Ratchet's vents, but it was Drift's hand, gently placed on Ratchet's waist, moving ever so slightly, so sweetly as it traced the lines of the seams there that had Ratchet denying the ping to open his panel.  
  
Ratchet had to bite his tongue to keep himself in check. There was only one habsuite on the shuttle. Only one berth. They had both thought it was big enough for both of them, and had been able to fall asleep comfortably apart. They had done the same thing before, for several nights. Somewhere in the middle of last night, however, Drift must have decided cuddling would be a lot more comfortable, and had shifted over to Ratchet and well… Ratchet wasn't going to complain, but he didn't think that spooning was on the list of things two mecha should do together unless they were intimately involved.  
  
Which they weren't, yet. Highly unfortunate though it was, Ratchet and Drift had been distant after their first kiss. They’d recharged together but it never went anywhere, much to Ratchet's quiet despair. He'd been waiting, and waiting, but Drift was always pulling back. Soon waiting turned to caution- as Drift pulled away, the more Ratchet thought maybe Drift didn't want him after all. Maybe he'd only wanted one kiss.  
  
Ratchet was desperately trying to keep himself from the hope that Drift’s chest pressed against his back meant something other than being more comfortable. He shuttered his optics and forcibly kept his fans from kicking up. Drift was definitely awake. He'd notice Ratchet's awareness any moment now, and stop, and apologize, and Drift would be so embarrassed he wouldn't get Drift’s hands on him for possibly months. Drift didn't need to know his stolen touches in the night hadn't gone unnoticed. Ratchet kept quiet, just to see how long it could last.  
  
Thankfully the answer seemed to be "a lot longer than he had dared to hope". Although Drift's fingers were wider with their hardened plating, they were still small enough to dip into every transformation seam. They were intelligent, seeking, smoothing over every old dent and scar and caressing every lip where plating met plating. Hands that could withstand an army, of the mech that could survive the pits and back again, seemed to revere his square waist line. Which was ironic, considering there was a much more alluring waist just behind him, and he itched to worship it if only to show those hands something to really admire. But they never seemed to tire of his own, boxy waist, revisiting known scars with the same interest and adoration as if they first met them. Ratchet's vents were close to rattling with the effort he exerted to keep them _still_. His very spark was vibrating in a hum, and he couldn't stop his engine from revving to the same tune.  
  
Ratchet cringed inwardly at the noise. But Drift didn't seem to notice, as he only cuddled closer to Ratchet, who flinched when he felt Drift's smile press against the back of his helm. Small kisses followed, and all the effort Ratchet had put into keeping still seemed exhausted as he couldn't keep himself from shuddering helm to pede. Drift only hiked his leg further up Ratchet's thigh, and hugged him tighter. His hands wandered further up, over his abdomen and then to this chestplate and then to his windshield and that was when Ratchet started doubting Drift was awake.  
  
The warrior was mumbling incoherently against Ratchet's audial and kissing him intermittently, and those hands were outright fondling his windshield. What had been gentle touches was now blatant groping, and the fire those firm strokes lit traveled all the way up to his faceplates. Ratchet was so startled by the sudden turn of events he couldn't stop his fans from _finally_ blasting out the hot air of his frame, or his engine revving up another notch.  
  
Ratchet cursed as he felt more than heard Drift's engine respond in kind. The medic groaned inwardly as he felt the powerful engine rumble through to his very spark, which sang it's hunger for the mech holding him so lovingly. But he couldn't. Drift hadn't ever touched him before now, what he really needed to do was to wake Drift, talk about their boundaries and expectations in a sexual relationship, and maybe start tomorrow. On the other hand, Drift’s lips were catching on the edge of his helm in his ever so sweet kisses, and Ratchet whined when he felt the tip of Drift’s glossa leave a wet streak. He wanted nothing more than to quit pretending, turn over, and frag Drift into stasis.

In less than a minute, Ratchet had skyrocketed from sleepily aroused, to now desperately keeping his panel closed. The damn thing was sending him so many pings it was a struggle to queue up words for his vocalizer.

"Drift," Ratchet rasped, "Drift, _wake up_." He needed Drift to wake up, so he could stop what he didn't mean to do. Or so he could continue what he did mean.  
  
Drift shifted his head, frowned, and stretched his hands before settling them on Ratchet's windshield again. His leg only pressed harder against Ratchet, but finally Ratchet heard the familiar hum of systems coming online behind him along with the soft click and whir of optics opening and focusing on the world again. Relief flooded through Ratchet, and then they both froze.  
  
Drift's field was suddenly alive and full of shock and embarrassment, and Ratchet's sparked twinged. All of a sudden he realized what Drift was going to do. In slow motion, it seemed, Drift pulled his hands away, his helm, his lovely leg. The plating they had covered was _cold_  and lonely or maybe that was just Ratchet's spark because before he could feel Drift move another inch he blurted-  
  
"Don't leave."  
  
Drift froze again, but now his field was so tangled with emotions Ratchet's foggy processor couldn't sparse through it all. He grasped to make sense of any of it but all he got was such a strong disbelief that his spark whirled unhappily and his own EM field unfurled with such firm acceptance and love and desperate want too that Ratchet was almost surprised by how much he wanted Drift. Wave after wave, Drift's field held until Ratchet took his hands in his and held them over his spark. Instantly, the disbelief and guilt broke down and were replaced with wonder as Drift gave a little desperate whine and pressed against the curve of Ratchet's back, fitting perfectly together with no space in between. Ratchet's field opened to his, laying bare the desire Drift had started with his gentle hands, how much he wanted those hands. His field practically begged Drift to touch him again, more, _now_.  
  
But Drift's hands were still frozen. Ratchet slowly pulled them along his windshield. Almost instinctively, Drift's hands curled into delicate seams that made Ratchet moan all the more, knowing now that Drift was awake. His field rolled out and encompassed them both with want, and with a tangible charge Drift's EM field mirrors his lover's lust. And just like that, Drift's engine roared as his hands moved again, sure this time but still seeking; one found Ratchet's hand and held on, while the other traveled down towards his waist, and then to his hip, and when it pawed at his array Ratchet let out another wanting moan.  
  
Drift's helm nuzzled into the back of Ratchet's neck and Ratchet jolted when Drift skipped his soft lipped kisses and _licked_  and mouthed at Ratchet's cables. He grunted as he tried to hide the sound of his paneling snapping open instantly, but Drift's hand was already there. Ratchet gasped and gave up on subtlety as Drift ran his hand over the top of Ratchet's spike, causing little abortive thrusts that pushed his aft into Drift's paneling. He couldn't care that he felt his paint leave marks; he wanted this too much now. Drift murmured something as he continued stroking Ratchet's spike, the softness in his voice sending Ratchet trembling again, hips starting to rock.  
  
This time, the elegant slide of Drift's thigh was between his legs, pushing them apart. The hungry ache in Ratchet's valve flared as thigh plating rubbed against it, and Ratchet moaned as he ground himself down on it and up into Drift's hand.  
  
Drift let out a needy keen as his own panels sprung open, the hot length of his spike firm against Ratchet's aft. Prefluid smeared as they rocked together. Ratchet groaned, his valve dripping onto that sinfully beautiful thigh, nearly forgetting his spike in Drift's hand as he reached down and rubber his anterior node. As his hand passed Drift's, his lover followed his example, leaving Ratchet's spike to explore his valve. When Drift added his two fingers, Ratchet bucked and cried out, rolling his hips even more desperately and opening his legs even further. Drift's spike pulsed behind him, and his engine growled. Drift's hands abandoned their touches and grabbed onto Ratchet's hips, guiding him onto Drift's spike.  
  
Ratchet moaned as the head of Drift's spike slid in, and the pace he had already set drove it deeper. The roll of his hips and Drift's own rutting had Drift's spike lighting up every node with a fire. Ratchet's aft met Drift's housing and they moved together as one, moans and grunt indistinguishable as they moved together. Ratchet held Drift's hand over his spark, heat and charge gathering there and spreading through him.  
  
His vision was hazy with pleasure, and he knew he wouldn't last long. He'd waited and wanted for far too long, and Drift felt divine and Ratchet had no hopes of holding back. He moaned Drift's name until Drift replied with his, stopping him short at the amazing amount of love spoken into his own designation. His spark flared with his own love and the charge burst, and Ratchet overloaded with his hips grinding against his lover's and his field full of love.  
  
Drift clutched harder at Ratchet, his whole frame going tense as his spike emptied into Ratchet's valve. His hips rutted still through their overloads, drawing it out until they were both exhausted. Ratchet's valve gripped gently on Drift's spike, and their transfluid covered their hips and thighs, not to mention the berth.  
  
Ratchet tried to gather himself in the post-overload bliss. His valve kept sending him sated pings, still happily stretched around Drift's spike, distracting him while he tried to pick out why he couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong when his spark absolutely radiated with content. His engine ran a happy purr, his field wallowed in pleasure, and even his fans hummed softly.  
  
And then Drift's field soured with guilt.  
  
Before he knew what he was doing, Ratchet had pulled himself off of Drift, turned, and pressed his love to the entirety of his front. Drift's field spiked with surprise, but Ratchet growled at the guilt still lingering there.  
  
"Stop that," Ratchet snapped firmly. His hands tightened around Drift's frame, who hadn't touched him back yet.  
  
"But Ratchet I-"  
  
"Stop."  
  
"Ratchet we-"  
  
"Drift, there's nothing wrong with getting a little handsy when you're in recharge," Ratchet growled, daring Drift to deny it.  
  
Drift pulled back out of Ratchet's hold enough to be able to glare up at him. "Ratchet, that wasn't just 'getting a little handsy'."  
  
"But I was awake for that," Ratchet reminded him, his hand dropping to Drift's thigh as if to remind him how very much "awake" he had been. "So were you. And I was already revved up and you were already there, and we both wanted to interface, and…" Ratchet paused as he looked down at Drift's face, which was still disbelieving. Drift's optics were so full of doubt Ratchet's spark wilted.  
  
Ratchet reached out to tenderly cup his love's cheek, and kissed his nasal ridge. "And I've been waiting far too long to make love with you, and I rushed it. I'm sorry Drift, it was my fault. I wanted you too much to let you leave, but I should have asked if you weren't ready. We should have talked more, but-"  
  
"I wanted you too much too," Drift interrupted, breathless, his arms finally moving to hold Ratchet and his helm making a soft ding as it knocked against Ratchet's. Drift smiled and his field opened up with all the love and relief and sparkache and hope he'd been holding back. Ratchet was so floored by its waves he almost missed the soft press of Drift's lips. But then Drift murmured something that made his spark surge, and Ratchet kissed him back for all he was worth and decided then and there he'd had enough of holding himself back and waiting.  
  
They would spend the next week making up for all the times they had both waited.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so this was inevitable. I was going to write robot smut eventually, glad the first time I wrote some turned out to be Dratchet! 
> 
> And thanks again to my beta reader, glitzbot! Go check her out on tumblr! And thank you all for reading, and for any kudos!


End file.
